


Bucky Bakes

by diner_drama



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, M/M, Vlogger AU, baking au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diner_drama/pseuds/diner_drama
Summary: Using a serrated knife, Bucky cut off a slice from the edge of the loaf and turned it to face the camera. "That looks like bread. I think we made bread!" The elation in his voice was infectious, and Steve couldn't help but grin at the screen as Bucky spread a pat of butter onto the cut side of the slice, the butter melting down into a creamy yellow as soon as it hit the hot bread. He lifted the slice out of the shot and a crunching noise was audible, followed by a delighted moan that made Steve cough and shift uncomfortably in his seat."You guys. This bread. Youguys," said Bucky, clearly talking with his mouth full. He swallowed, and so did Steve. "I'm so happy with how this came out."
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 145
Kudos: 652





	1. Chapter 1

Contrary to what Tony Stark might say, Steve Rogers _loved_ modern technology. Take Wikipedia, for example. Back in Steve's day, if you wanted to look something up in an encyclopedia, you'd have to head all the way out to the public library, pull the big dusty thing off the shelf, probably have an asthma attack, and then try to find the thing you were looking for. Nowadays, zip! You could type in "Star Wars" or "moss" or "gay rights" and get straight to the article you want.

(Steve's pretty happy about gay rights here in the future, too.)

YouTube was a revelation - video after video of literally anything you could imagine. When he discovered vlogging, he had to ask Sam if these people were posting videos of their lives on purpose and whether it was moral, or even legal, to watch them. It just seemed too personal - voyeuristic even - to be party to someone's day to day life. Once Sam reassured him that yes, it was both legal and moral, it didn't take long for him to be absolutely hooked on the gentle pleasure of watching people go about their lives - walking their dogs, meeting their friends, cleaning out their closets. Strangely, it made him feel less alone.

One sunny morning, he was idly scrolling through his suggested videos, when he came across a channel he'd never seen before. It was the thumbnail of the video that drew him in - just a pair of hands holding a ball of dough, tattooed forearms stretching out to the bottom of the frame. He clicked on the video and was greeted with the sight of a plain countertop, a bowl of flour sitting in the centre.

"Hello, folks," said a pleasant disembodied male voice. "Good morning, and welcome to Bucky Bakes. For those of you who are new to my channel, I'm trying out a new recipe every day for a year. Today I'm just doing a simple white loaf of bread, because I haven't worked with yeast a lot before and I want to give it a go."

Those hands came back into the shot again to grasp the sides of the mixing bowl, and Steve took a minute to appreciate the short, clean fingernails and strong surety of his fingers. 

Steve's always been a sucker for a good pair of hands.

"What I have here is five hundred grams of strong white flour," said Bucky. "According to the book I got this recipe from, 'strong' flour has more gluten than regular cake flour, which creates more structure, which traps the carbon dioxide from the yeast and makes the dough rise more, as well as making it chewier."

The hands disappeared and a rustling sound came from off camera. "Now, the first thing we're gonna do is add in a packet of dried yeast, and a little bit of salt, and mix them all together." Bucky's hands ripped open a small paper parcel and sprinkled in the contents, then poured in some salt from a tiny measuring spoon. He dipped one hand into the bowl and combed his fingers through, swirling the dry ingredients together, then used his knuckles to make a well in the center.

"Now we've got all the dry stuff taken care of, it's time to start adding the wet ingredients. We need three tablespoons of olive oil, and little under two thirds of a pint of water."

The oil was poured in first, a bigger measuring spoon turning over to drop the amber liquid into the bowl. Then the water, poured from a chipped measuring jug.

"Now's the part I'm not so sure about," said Bucky, starting to mix the dry and wet ingredients together with one hand. "I've never kneaded dough before, so I looked up some videos on the internet, and I'm going to try to do what they did. Let's see how it goes, yeah?"

Once he'd brought the dough together into one wet, sticky mass, he tipped it out onto the countertop and started to knead it, the muscles in his forearms tensing and relaxing as he worked the dough. Steve found himself idly looking at his tattoos - a few of them looked vaguely military, but the rest seemed to be purely decorative, bright blocks and swirls of color dancing over his skin.

Bucky kept up a steady stream of chatter in his low, soothing voice as he stretched and folded the dough, describing the process and dropping in little bits of life advice every once in a while.

"If you're a regular on this channel, you'll know what I'm about to say, but I think it bears repeating that baking is a great way to spend your time if your mental health is a little wobbly. You get to spend some time making something with your own two hands, then once you're finished, you have something tasty to eat. What could be better than that?"

After a while, the video increased in speed, and Bucky's voice was replaced with some gentle guitar music as the ball of dough on screen became smoother and smoother, Bucky's quickened fingers kneading at double-speed. It was soothing, and incredibly satisfying, to watch as the mixture slowly became more elastic, closer and closer to the finished texture.

Once the kneading was nearly finished, the video slowed back down, and Bucky's voice broke in again. "I think this is it, folks." He lifted the dough, holding it carefully in his cupped hands, and transferred it into an oiled mixing bowl, then covered the top in saran wrap. "Time to leave this to rise - see you all in an hour."

The camera stayed trained on the bowl, video speeding up, and Steve watched, engrossed, as the dough rose to fill the space, puffing up into a smooth dome.

"Hello again," said Bucky's voice as the video slowed down. He unfastened the saran wrap from the bowl and let out a low whistle. "Look at this absolute unit."

Steve frowned and reached for his notebook, writing down the phrase "absolute unit" to research later.

Bucky's gentle hands lifted the dough out of the bowl and onto the work surface, then started to fold it in on itself, letting the air escape from inside it. "Seems kinda crazy to me that we spent all this time getting it to puff up, and then we're just knocking it back, but I have it on good authority that it'll just come back stronger and better."

He shaped the dough into a ball and brought out a tray. "Now we're going to leave this to rise again - I know, crazy right? - so I'll just put this on here on some baking parchment," he said, carefully transferring the ball onto the baking tray, "and I'll see you in another hour."

As he watched the dough slowly swelling onscreen, Steve felt suddenly curious about what Bucky looked like, aside from his admittedly lovely forearms and hands. In the description box beneath the video, there was a tiny, grainy thumbnail of a handsome face, and he was just squinting at it to try to make out any details when Bucky's voice broke back in.

"I've had the oven pre-heating for half an hour - don't know if that's long enough, but I guess we'll find out - and its at 430 degrees Fahrenheit. Before I pop it in there, I'm going to cut a fancy swirl in the top using a sharp knife, because I saw it on Pinterest and I thought it looked neat."

Carefully turning the tray around, Bucky's sure fingers used a razorblade to score a spiral into the top of the loaf. "That came out better than I expected," he admitted in a confiding tone. "Into the oven now, for about half an hour. I cleaned the door especially for this video, so you'd better appreciate it."

The screen cut to a view through the oven door of the bread baking. Steve found himself holding his breath, hoping that Bucky's loaf would come out well. The time-lapse video showed the dough rising, then starting to turn a beautiful golden-brown, before cutting back to Bucky's hands on the work surface, the loaf of bread sitting proudly between them.

"I'm pretty sure this is done," said Bucky, turning the loaf over in his hands. He knocked on the bottom, making a hollow sound ring out. "I think it's making the right noise. I'm gonna cut into it and see how we did." 

Using a serrated knife, Bucky cut off a slice from the edge of the loaf and turned it to face the camera. "That looks like bread. I think we made bread!" The elation in his voice was infectious, and Steve couldn't help but grin at the screen as Bucky spread a pat of butter onto the cut side of the slice, the butter melting down into a creamy yellow as soon as it hit the hot bread. He lifted the slice out of the shot and a crunching noise was audible, followed by a delighted moan that made Steve cough and shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"You guys. This bread. You _guys_ ," said Bucky, clearly talking with his mouth full. He swallowed, and so did Steve. "I'm so happy with how this came out."

His hands rotated the loaf, giving the audience a view of every side, the spiral swirl on top, the smooth, shiny sides, the bubbly surface of the base, the airy structure inside the cut edge.

"There we go. That's today's Bucky Bake! I'm gonna go and eat this whole loaf now, but I'll be back tomorrow with another video. The recipe for this bread is down below in the description box and I _highly_ recommend that you bake some. Remember to press the 'like' button if you enjoyed this bake, and if you want to keep up to date with my new videos, you can subscribe to my channel."

Steve let out a long exhale, eyes lingering on the thumbnail on the screen, and then pressed 'subscribe'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Bucky's bread recipe on [this recipe from the BBC](https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/easy-white-bread), and [this is the cool spiral thing](https://foodgeek.dk/en/sourdough-bread-scoring-tutorial/). I thought of this when I was watching [Bake with Jack](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTVR5DSxWPpAVI8TzaaXRqQ) on YouTube, but not in a creepy way, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's YouTube channel was a treasure trove. He was about half-way through his 'Year of New Recipes' quest, so there was page after page of bakes, for every holiday and event imaginable. Steve watched them hungrily, eager to soak in Bucky's soothing voice, his lovely arms, and any little snippets about his life he happened to share. Steve hoarded away every little detail in a folder in his brain labeled "I don't want to think about why I'm so invested in this."

Bucky's YouTube channel was a treasure trove. He was about half-way through his 'Year of New Recipes' quest, so there was page after page of bakes, for every holiday and event imaginable. Steve watched them hungrily, eager to soak in Bucky's soothing voice, his lovely arms, and any little snippets about his life he happened to share. Steve hoarded away every little detail in a folder in his brain labeled "I don't want to think about why I'm so invested in this."

Steve's new morning ritual was to queue up a video on the holo-screen and settle in with a bowl of porridge and a coffee for a quiet start to his day. At bedtime, he propped up his phone on the nightstand and let the gentle sound of Bucky's voice accompany him into sleep. He felt more relaxed than he could remember feeling in years, like some wound-up thing inside him was finally given permission to un-tense.

One morning, he was perched on a stool at his kitchen counter, just about to tuck into a big serving of hot oats, when the latest video started playing on screen and he choked suddenly, the cereal going the wrong way down his throat.

Bucky was wearing nail polish. Red nail polish.

It was _hot_. Why was that so hot?

"My baby sister," said Bucky while Steve coughed, "who is a grown adult and definitely old enough to know better, insisted on painting my nails yesterday so that I could look pretty for my video, so please enjoy my beautiful, sparkly red nails."

Steve sent up a silent thanks to Bucky's mysterious sister and leaned forwards on his elbows to watch.

"This brownie recipe says to use unsalted butter, but salted was all I had in the cupboard, and I'm too anxious to go to the shop today, so this is what we're using. Anyways, you always need some salt in with the sweet, just like in life. Makes the sweet all the sweeter."

Steve smiled, and reached for his phone to order some groceries - all the ingredients from the original brownie recipe, and some salted butter.

* * *

"Since when can you bake?" asked Natasha a few days later through a mouthful of brownie, sitting comfortably on his kitchen counter and swinging her legs.

Having just padded half-asleep into his kitchen in sweatpants and bare feet, Steve only rubbed his eyes and squinted at her. "How do you keep getting into my apartment?" he yawned, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice.

"Oh, lots of ways," she said lightly, which was not at all reassuring. "These are actually really good."

"I saw the recipe on the YouTube," said Steve, using intentional old-man phrasing just to make her scowl. "You know," he continued in his Captain America voice, pulling out a jar of porridge oats. "A wholesome breakfast is the foundation of a good day."

"I'll pass," she said, picking up another brownie. "You're in a good mood lately. It's suspicious."

"I learned to bake," shrugged Steve, mixing oats and milk in a pan on the stove and turning on the flame. "It's good for your emotional wellbeing."

"Wellbeing?" she gasped, clutching her chest melodramatically. "Where did you learn that word?"

"I looked it up on the Google," said Steve, humming as he stirred the mixture.

Her eyes narrowed. "Did you meet someone? You're... glowing. It's peculiar."

"If I'd met someone, wouldn't you already know about it?"

She inclined her head, conceding the point. "Briefing's in fifteen," she said, slipping off the counter and picking up the entire tray of brownies. "I'm taking these."

Steve shook his head and spooned his porridge into a bowl. "Of course you are."

* * *

"I saw some cool lattice-work on the bake-off," said Bucky's calm voice through the speakers, "so I figured it was high time I made an apple pie. This is my ma's recipe, which she would only give me once I promised her that I would give her some grandchildren, so this had better be delicious or I will have a lot of things to explain to my future husband."

Steve grabbed his spoon so hard that it bent in half, although he wasn't quite sure if it was the promise of an apple pie recipe or Bucky being openly queer that had stopped his heart so suddenly.

"Anyways, folks, you all seemed to really like my nail polish last week, so how about a deal - if this video gets to 10,000 likes, I will wear red nail polish for a week for you all."

Before he could hear the end of the sentence, Steve was already fumbling for his phone and pressing 'dial'. 

"Tony, how can I 'like' a YouTube video more than once?"

* * *

"Well, thanks to whichever one of you it was who _broke YouTube_ by spamming my video with 'likes'," drawled Bucky, making Steve bury his head in his hands, "this video is a few hours late, but..." He brought his hands into the frame and drummed his nails on the countertop, the red polish catching the light and making Steve's breath hitch. 

"Now, you degenerates, I'm gonna bake some cinnamon buns."

* * *

Steve's tuxedo was itchy, and no matter how carefully Tony's tailor measured him up, somehow the jacket always ended up straining over his chest as though he were about to burst out of it. He didn't want to be at the charity auction in the first place, but Pepper had been the one to ask him, and somehow she was much harder to say no to than Tony. 

"I can't believe you managed to talk Sam into this," said Steve to Pepper in an undertone.

Sam was standing on the stage at the front of the opulent ballroom in his full Falcon uniform, smiling invitingly and waving at the crowd as the auctioneer extolled his virtues.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer for you all - an evening with the Falcon himself, with dinner in a Michelin-starred restaurant. I'm going to start the bidding at a thousand dollars. Do I hear a thousand dollars?"

"It's for a good cause," murmured Pepper, smiling secretly behind her champagne glass, "and I may have mentioned that the entire US Women's soccer team was going to be in the audience."

"Yeah, that'll do it," chuckled Steve as a muscular woman in a sequined ball gown upped the bidding to $10,000. On the stage, Sam was all but preening.

"Sold! To the lady in the green dress. Next up on our auction docket, a private baking lesson from the YouTube sensation, Bucky Barnes!"

Steve inhaled an ice cube and had to be whacked repeatedly on the back by Pepper before he could regain his composure. Bucky's grainy thumbnail had done him no justice at all - this man was _beautiful_. 

Heart in his throat, Steve jumped up from his seat.

"Twenty thousand dollars," he called out. Bucky's eyes sought him out across the crowded room, and a crooked smile spread over his handsome face.

"We've got twenty thousand dollars!" called the auctioneer. "Going once at twenty thousand, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the ill-fitting tuxedo."

Tony tore himself away from making a little boat out of his napkin to blink at Steve. "You really that into baking, Cap?"

"Yes," said Steve simply, standing up to make his way over to the cashier's desk and write a check before he could be asked any more questions.

"Hey," said a familiar voice over his shoulder as he was signing his name. He straightened and turned around to be dazzled by Bucky's shy smile. "I, uh, I just wanted to say thanks, and, hi." He stuck out a hand for Steve to shake, red polish still sparkling on his nails.

"No, thank _you_ ," said Steve earnestly, grasping a hand he'd spent many hours watching. "It's real kind of you to give up your time like this for a good cause. I gotta say..." he continued, meeting Bucky's eyes with a sheepish smile. "I'm a big fan of your videos."

"No kidding?" Bucky's face split into a huge grin, eyes lighting up.

"I had no idea how to bake a damn thing before I started watching them. My mental health has improved so much, I can't even tell you."

Bucky clapped him on the arm, squeezing warmly. "That's so good to hear, Steve. What do you fancy learning in our class?"

"I like your bread recipes, could we do something like that?"

"That's perfect," beamed Bucky. "How are you situated the Saturday after next? I'll give you my number so we can co-ordinate."

"Can't wait," said Steve weakly. As he watched Bucky walk away, he slumped against the cashier's table and let out a long breath and bit his lip, unable to contain the grin that was spreading across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the best brownie recipe that I have ever tried](https://smittenkitchen.com/2010/01/best-cocoa-brownies/). The apple pie I make is usually loosely based on [this BBC recipe](https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/ultimate-apple-pie) but I tend to improvise a bit on the spices - nutmeg, allspice, ginger, and cardamom make frequent appearances alongside the cinnamon. I have never successfully made cinnamon buns.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve was not stressing out about his baking lesson with Bucky.
> 
> Steve was, in fact, taking a completely normal and reasonable amount of time and effort trying to pick the perfect outfit, in the way that any sensible person would.
> 
> "You're stressing out," said Natasha flatly, when she found him buried in a pile of button-down shirts and khaki slacks, hyperventilating.

Steve was not stressing out about his baking lesson with Bucky.

Steve was, in fact, taking a completely normal and reasonable amount of time and effort trying to pick the perfect outfit, in the way that any sensible person would.

"You're stressing out," said Natasha flatly, when she found him buried in a pile of button-down shirts and khaki slacks, hyperventilating.

"Bucky likes men who dress well," he said from underneath a plaid flannel shirt, sounding muffled. "He mentioned it in episode thirty five: gingerbread."

"How does he feel about men who sweat like thoroughbred racehorses?"

"It hasn't come up," admitted Steve, surfacing and looking around him with a forlorn expression. "Nat, what do I wear?"

"Are these our only options?" she drawled, casting her eye dubiously over the clothes. Steve pouted. "OK, I can work with this. Try on this shirt and these pants," she said, eyeing him expectantly.

"Uh," said Steve, blushing. "Could I have some privacy?"

"No."

He sighed and turned around, peeling off his compression tee and buttoning up the blue shirt. "I think this one's a little small."

"Yeah, I know," said Natasha idly. "That was kinda the idea."

He looked down at his bulging chest as it strained at the fastenings. "I want to look _nice_ , not like some two-bit floozy."

"If your goal is to seduce him, personally I've found that getting your tits out is a flawless plan," she shrugged, "but fine." She handed him another, slightly larger, shirt, which he pulled on, followed by the slacks.

"So? How do I look?" he asked, tucking in his shirt and smoothing down the front.

"Very red in the face, but apart from that you look like a surprisingly attractive Sunday School teacher."

"Is that a good thing to look like?"

"For you? Definitely."

* * *

Steve was anxiously peeling along the sidewalk and wiping his sweaty hands on his slacks when he arrived at Bucky's apartment building. He checked the address that he'd written down in his notebook, raised a hand to push the buzzer for Bucky's floor, then stood nervously waiting.

"Steve!" called Bucky, hanging out of a window on the fourth floor and waving. "I'll buzz you in, come on up the stairs."

Grinning, Steve burst through the door and took the stairs two at a time, reaching Bucky's floor barely out of breath. Bucky was waiting for him on the landing, and they spent quite a few seconds smiling at each other like idiots.

"Come on in," said Bucky, grinning broadly. "I like your shirt, it really shows off your tits."

Steve blushed a spectacular shade of crimson. "Thanks," he stammered. "That's why I picked it."

Bucky waved him through, closing the door after them. His apartment was small but cozily decorated, and the familiar kitchen he was ushered into was scrubbed shiny clean and smelled like lemons. The flour, salt, and yeast were waiting out on the counter, with a glass mixing bowl.

"So this is where the magic happens, huh?"

"Looks smaller in real life, doesn't it?"

Steve looked around him and smiled. "I think it's perfect."

"Let's scrub up and get to work," said Bucky, bumping him with his shoulder. He turned on the tap and soaped up, carefully scrubbing all the way to his elbows and cleaning under his fingernails - which were again a beautiful, sparkly shade of red. Steve followed suit.

"I gotta say, I love your nail polish," said Steve with a sly smile. "Back in my day we couldn't do that kind of thing outside of a couple of very specific bars in Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn's been queer as hell forever, huh?" laughed Bucky, drying his hands on a towel then passing it to Steve, their fingers brushing.

"Nothing like this. I went to Pride a couple of years ago and, wow. I couldn't have imagined it in my wildest dreams. I _love_ the future."

"It's pretty great," agreed Bucky, clapping him on the arm. "Ready to start baking?"

"Absolutely."

"For this dough we're going to use half wholemeal and half white flour," began Bucky, sliding the mixing bowl, scales, and two bags of flour along the counter towards him. "Weigh out four hundred grams of each into the bowl."

Carefully, Steve poured out the flours into the bowl, squinting at the display on the scales, very aware of the warmth of Bucky's arm next to his.

Bucky ripped open a little paper parcel and poured the dried yeast into the bowl, following it up with a large pinch of salt. "Now swirl your fingers through that and mix it all together." Steve did as he was told, letting the dry ingredients fall through his fingers and back into the bowl.

"I'm going to pour in the water slowly," said Bucky, using his knuckles to make a well in the center of the mixture. "Once I start pouring, I want you to get your hand in there and start mixing it, OK?"

"Sure thing."

Bucky started pouring and Steve carded his fingers through dough, making a face at the texture.

"You know," admitted Bucky, leaning close. "I actually hate the way the dough feels at this point, so I'm enjoying having you here as my minion so I don't have to do this part."

"Oh, I see how it is. Slave labor is illegal, you know."

"Hey, buddy, you're the one paying for this experience. Now squish the goopy stuff until it becomes less gross and stop with the back-talk."

"Woah, slow down, I can't keep up with all your technical jargon."

"Watch it, Rogers."

Steve carried on squeezing and pressing at the dough until it came together into one mass.

"Now use your clean hand to tip it out onto the countertop and you can start kneading it."

"OK, this feels more like what I imagined making bread to be like," said Steve, rolling the dough over on the surface.

"Lemme help with that," said Bucky, hooking his chin over Steve's shoulder and guiding his hands to knead and stretch the dough. Steve tried not to shiver as Bucky's strong, sure hands covered his, his warm chest pressing against his back. 

"You know, I _have_ seen the film 'Ghost'," smirked Steve, nonetheless not moving out of Bucky's embrace. The flex of Bucky's arms was making his tattoos dance over his skin.

"Ohhhh, myyyyy loooovvvee," crooned Bucky in his ear in a low, pleasant voice.

"My daaaarling," replied Steve, before they tailed off into a fit of giggles.

"You're a natural at this," said Bucky, releasing his hands and stroking back up his arms, trailing his hands down Steve's back and giving his waist a squeeze before stepping away. "Another ten minutes of that with those big strong arms and we'll be ready for the first prove." He hopped up to sit on the counter and unashamedly ogle Steve's biceps.

Despite himself, Steve preened a little and flexed his arms as he put his back into pounding the dough. Bucky bit his lip, eying Steve up and down.

After a few minutes of Steve kneading, Bucky supervising and occasionally making suggestions in between blatant flirtatious drive-by compliments, Bucky deemed the dough to be ready. They deposited it into a greased bowl and reverently covered it with a towel, tucking it in to sleep.

After he'd washed off the remnants of the dough, Steve was just drying his hands when Bucky's strong arms grabbed him and pushed him against the kitchen cabinets, pinning him by the shoulders and leaning in to brush their noses together.

"How do you think we can occupy ourselves while the dough is proving?" he whispered, trailing his lips over Steve's cheek to bite his earlobe. "There's a lot of things we could do in two hours."

"You seemed like such a nice wholesome boy in your videos," commented Steve breathlessly, resting his hands on Bucky's hips.

"And you seem like an incorruptible national icon," breathed Bucky, the air hot on the skin of Steve's neck, "but a little birdie told me that nobody could have interfered with YouTube's systems to skew the voting on my video except Tony Stark... and who do I know who's friends with Tony Stark?"

He scraped his red nails down Steve's chest, the thin fabric of his shirt doing little to dull the sensation, and Steve shivered, face heating up in embarrassment. 

"I, uh..." he said, trailing off, his mouth scant inches from Bucky's. "I really like the nail polish," he finished nonsensically, and crashed their lips together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You look like a thousand dollars," breathed Steve, taking in the sight before him.
> 
> Bucky laughed, a beautiful sound that Steve felt through all of his body. "That wouldn't even cover my rent, sweetheart."
> 
> "You gotta adjust all my compliments for inflation," mumbled Steve nonsensically, entranced as he traced up Bucky's body with his fingertips, following the swirls and patterns of his tattoos as they danced over his chest. Bucky threw his head back and hissed when Steve pinched lightly at his nipples, hips jerking involuntarily.

"God, you're so beautiful," breathed Steve as they broke apart, skating a reverent hand over Bucky's cheek. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I first watched one of your videos."

"You can't even see my face in those videos," purred Bucky, scratching his nails over the back of Steve's scalp. "You're a hand guy, aren't you?"

"Guilty," said Steve with a breathless laugh, bringing Bucky's wrist up to his mouth to press a kiss to his pulse point. They kissed again, hot and open mouthed, and when Bucky's knee pressed just a little between Steve's thighs, he couldn't stop himself from letting out an almost inaudible moan, half-hard already from just this.

"Knew you'd be so responsive," murmured Bucky into his lips, pressing harder against his body and eliciting a gasp. "Those big blue eyes and your pretty, soft lips. Bet you look so sweet when you're on your knees, huh, tough guy?"

"Only one way to find out," growled Steve, using his strength to spin them around so that Bucky was now pinned to the cabinets. He plundered Bucky's mouth with a desperate kiss, gasping against his lips, and brought his hands down to cup Bucky's ass, lifting him off the ground. Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve's waist, twining his arms around his neck and trusting easily that Steve would be able to carry his not inconsiderable weight.

"Bedroom's back that way," said Bucky in between kisses, nodding towards the hallway. "You know, if that's something you're interested in."

"I am very, very interested in the location of your bedroom," agreed Steve, already turning towards the door. Bucky turned his attention to Steve's neck, nipping and licking at the junction between his neck and shoulder, pressing soft kisses to soothe after the sharp scratch of his teeth.

Bucky's bedroom was much like the rest of his apartment - clean, homey, and unpretentious. The double bed took up most of the space, apart from a set of shelves holding books and exercise equipment, shoved into the corner. Steve barely had any time to take all of this in before Bucky was unwinding his legs and using a surprising display of strength to pull Steve down onto the bed with him, rolling him onto his back so that Bucky could straddle his hips, pulling off his own shirt as he went.

"You look like a thousand dollars," breathed Steve, taking in the sight before him.

Bucky laughed, a beautiful sound that Steve felt through all of his body. "That wouldn't even cover my rent, sweetheart."

"You gotta adjust all my compliments for inflation," mumbled Steve nonsensically, entranced as he traced up Bucky's body with his fingertips, following the swirls and patterns of his tattoos as they danced over his chest. Bucky threw his head back and hissed when Steve pinched lightly at his nipples, hips jerking involuntarily.

"Off," said Bucky insistently, tugging at the bottom of Steve's shirt and biting down on his bottom lip, watching as Steve pulled off his shirt and discarded it onto the floor, eyes flicking over his pecs and across his biceps in undisguised appreciation.

"You look like at least a dollar fifty," whispered Bucky against his lips as he leaned down for a kiss.

Steve sat up, pressing his chest against Bucky's and reveling in the hot, intoxicating slide of skin against skin as he kissed him hungrily, wet and open mouthed. He tangled his fingers in his dark hair and pulled them together as close as possible, until they could have been sharing one heartbeat.

Bucky rolled his hips in a way that Steve was certain must be illegal, pressing against Steve's achingly hard cock in just the right way to make him shudder and curse into Bucky's skin.

"How do you wanna do this?" murmured Bucky, his pupils blown wide as he stared at Steve with naked hunger in his eyes.

"I want you to fuck me," said Steve without hesitation, moaning again as Bucky responded by grinding against his crotch with another sinful roll of the hips.

"I think we can arrange that," said Bucky, capturing his lips in another thrilling kiss before sliding off the bed to take off his pants and underwear, motioning for Steve to do the same. He paused on seeing Steve's cock freed from the confines of his shorts, springing up proud against his abs, and pushed Steve back onto the bed by the hips to put his lips against the head, tongue chasing every drop of pre-come as it dribbled out.

Steve cried out, before muffling himself with his arm, the sight of Bucky's blue eyes looking up from beneath his long lashes watching him with the head of his cock disappearing between those tempting lips almost too perfect to witness. Bucky's hand drifted up his thigh and around to his asshole, tracing around the hole with one gentle finger. Steve moaned again, pressing downwards against his hand, searching for more stimulation. 

The lube cap clicked, then Bucky's finger reappeared at his hole, slick and cool. The first two fingers went in easily, one after the other, crooking just so to find Steve's sweet spot, making his back arch up off the bed. He kissed up the length of Steve's cock, giving one long lick along the shaft with the broad flat of his tongue. The third finger eased into Steve's tight hole, and before long Bucky was fucking his fingers in and out of Steve, leaving him gasping for breath and writhing on the bed as the head of his cock disappeared again and again between Bucky's teasing lips.

"Fuck me," gasped Steve. "Please, c'mon."

"How could I say no when you beg so sweetly?" asked Bucky, reaching out for a condom and rolling it over his thick, turgid cock, kneeling between Steve's legs, lewdly spread over the bed like a buffet for him to enjoy. Steve grinned and wrapped his legs around Bucky's waist, urging him closer.

He placed just the head of his cock at Steve's slick entrance, then pushed inside, gazing into Steve's eyes and fucking him open with a few short thrusts until he was seated balls-deep, filling Steve up with a delicious stretch. 

"Fu-u-uck," moaned Steve slowly, a fucked-out look in his blown pupils. He clutched at the back of Bucky's head, tangling his fingers in his dark hair to pull him down for a desperate kiss, rolling his hips to feel all of Bucky's cock where it was buried inside him. Experimentally, Bucky pulled out a little way and then pushed back in, making Steve groan and sink his teeth into the tender skin of Bucky's neck.

He set a slow but steady rhythm, increasing in speed as Steve's cries got louder and the heat of their bodies coated their skin in a sheen of sweat. Steve's breath was coming out in pants, rough and earnest, as he undulated his body underneath Bucky's, rising up to meet every thrust. The pleasure was becoming unbearable, cresting to a peak. 

Unwilling to end their encounter so quickly, Steve gave a sly smile and used his strength to roll them bodily over so that he was riding on top. After a moment of shock, Bucky grabbed his hips and sat up in bed so that they were chest to chest, sharing every breath as he drove up into Steve's willing body. Steve tilted his head back, baring the column of his throat as he rode Bucky's cock lazily, rolling his hips up and down with every twitch of his muscular thighs. Bucky's spare hand found his dripping cock, fisting it in time with his thrusts as it drooled over both of their stomachs.

"Bucky, I'm-" started Steve, the words getting stuck in his throat.

"Yeah," agreed Bucky, swiping his thumb over just the right spot on the head of Steve's cock and thrusting to perfectly nail his prostate at the same time, tipping him right over the edge. As Steve rode the waves of his pleasure, he was aware of Bucky thrusting twice more into him before stilling, burying his face in Steve's neck as his own orgasm washed over him.

Regaining his senses slowly, Steve hummed contentedly into Bucky's shoulder.

"I sure am enjoying my baking lesson," he said earnestly. Bucky swatted him in the head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve was enjoying his post-orgasmic glow, drowsily snuggled against Bucky's side and nosing his hair absent-mindedly, when the bread timer started beeping. He let out a noise of discontent, clinging tighter to Bucky's warm chest.
> 
> "C'mon, sweetheart," mumbled Bucky, turning to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. "Aren't you hungry?"
> 
> "No," said Steve stubbornly, and then sighed in annoyance when his stomach let out a mighty growl. "Yes."
> 
> "I have left-over brownies," whispered Bucky against Steve's lips.
> 
> "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," murmured Steve, pulling his shorts back on and allowing himself to be led back into the kitchen.

Steve was enjoying his post-orgasmic glow, drowsily snuggled against Bucky's side and nosing his hair absent-mindedly, when the bread timer started beeping. He let out a noise of discontent, clinging tighter to Bucky's warm chest.

"C'mon, sweetheart," mumbled Bucky, turning to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. "Aren't you hungry?"

"No," said Steve stubbornly, and then sighed in annoyance when his stomach let out a mighty growl. "Yes."

"I have left-over brownies," whispered Bucky against Steve's lips.

"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," murmured Steve, pulling his shorts back on and allowing himself to be led back into the kitchen.

"Wash your hands and grab a couple of brownies from the tin, then we can check on the dough," said Bucky, turning off the timer, looking far too delicious, semi-naked and at home in his kitchen.

"Oh my God, Bucky," moaned Steve with his mouth full of brownie, having grabbed two and stuffed them straight into his mouth like a savage. "These are amazing."

Bucky cleared his throat and turned away to search for a bag of flour. "Stop making sex noises, we have important bread stuff to do."

"Sorry," said Steve sheepishly. He gingerly lifted the dish towel from the top of the mixing bowl to peek at the dough. "Oh my God!"

"What did I just say?" sighed Bucky, turning back around with a bag of flour held in front of the growing bulge in his shorts.

"Look at how much the dough has risen!" beamed Steve. "It's an absolute unit!"

"You looked that up on Google, didn't you," said Bucky flatly, nonetheless wrapping his arm around Steve's waist from behind and peering over his shoulder at the bowl.

"Did I say it right?"

"You did, it's good. Tip that dough out onto the surface," he continued, dusting a little flour onto the counter. "You gotta knock the air back out of it before we put it on the baking tray."

"Are we making a swirly loaf like in your video?" asked Steve, gently kneading the dough with his brow furrowed, an expression of great concentration on his face.

"I had something else in mind - how do you feel about Camembert?"

"It's a cheese, right?"

"Yeah."

"I feel strongly positive about all cheese. Are we making... Camembert bread?"

"I was thinking, tear and share bread around the edge of the tray, and a baked Camembert in the middle to dip the bread in."

Steve was completely stricken by this extravagant modern decadence. "Is that even allowed?"

"... Yes?"

"I love the future so much," said Steve rapturously, turning back to the bread dough. "Yes, let's do that, please."

"OK, portion out that dough into about thirty bits. I've greased this baking tray and I'm gonna grab the cheese to put in the center."

With a level of exactitude that was bordering on unnecessary, Steve divided the dough into thirty equal pieces and rolled each piece into a neat little ball. Bucky made a pleased little noise when he returned with the round cheese.

"You really are a natural baker, you know that?" he said, pecking Steve on the cheek and making him turn a fetching shade of pink.

"Well, I had a good teacher," mumbled Steve with a bashful smile.

After Bucky placed the cheese into the center of the baking tray, they worked as a team to arrange the dough balls around the edges in concentric rings, making a neat pattern. Then, Bucky laid the towel back over the top of the bread, tucking it in gently.

"The second prove should take about an hour, and I'll set the oven to start pre-heating," said Bucky, handing Steve a cloth to wipe down the counter as he set the kitchen timer.

"A whole hour, huh?" purred Steve, pressing Bucky against the counter from behind, nosing at his neck. Bucky shuddered and dropped his head backwards, twisting so he could brush his lips against Steve's.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured, turning around and clutching at Steve's shoulders to bring him in for a long, thorough kiss.

By the time the alarm sounded, Bucky was pounding wordlessly on the tiled floor with his fist as Steve teased the life out of him, the wet heat of his tongue driving him to distraction as he mouthed at his cock through the thin fabric of his shorts.

On hearing the bread timer beeping, Steve, being as he was an enormous asshole, leaped to his feet and stretched out his hand to Bucky expectantly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" gasped Bucky, making no move to get up from where he was lying panting on the floor, raking a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You don't want the dough to over-prove, do ya?" Steve used his best puppy-dog eyes until Bucky prised himself reluctantly from the tiles and stood.

"Wash your hands," he grumbled, bumping Steve with his shoulder. "I know where they've been."

The little dough rolls had puffed up perfectly and combined into one nubbled tear-and-share mass. Dotting the tray here and there with butter as directed by Bucky, Steve slid the tray straight into the oven. Bucky pulled him down to the floor to sit cross-legged in front of the oven door.

"To tell you the truth," he confided, "whenever I video things baking in the oven, I'm usually right here on the floor watching it along with everyone else."

The half hour that it took for the bread to bake flew past, mostly due to Steve's insistence on tracing over Bucky's chest with teasing fingertips, tormenting him with light, fleeting touches as he leaned in to his touch, baring his neck for Steve to kiss and bite, a little whine caught at the back of his throat. At the sound of the timer, Bucky pushed Steve irritably over onto his back, leaving him laughing on the floor as he grabbed the oven mitts and retrieved the bread and cheese from the oven.

"We're going to eat this," he proclaimed, "and then I'm gonna make you pay for all of that."

Without answering, Steve jumped to his feet and grabbed a still-hot chunk of bread from the tray, blowing on it carefully before dipping it in the molten cheese and popping it straight into his mouth. He groaned aloud, tipping his head back in pleasure. 

Bucky swallowed heavily, then grabbed a piece of bread himself and hopped up to perch on the counter.

"You're digging your own grave here, punk."

Steve just grinned and picked up another piece of bread. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tear and share cheesy bread is from [Jamie Oliver](https://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/cheese-recipes/baked-camembert/).


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam was just settling down with a trashy novel for the evening when his phone lit up with an alert.
> 
>  __Steve: __Check out this video!

Sam was just settling down with a trashy novel for the evening when his phone lit up with an alert.

**Steve:** Check out this video!

Rolling his eyes, he clicked on the link, assuming that Steve had discovered yet another genre of Youtube video that he was eager to share. 

The week he had discovered slime videos had been a particular trial.

The screen filled with the image of a clean kitchen counter.

"I'm here in the kitchen today with my boyfriend Steve," said a pleasant male voice. "Say hi, Stevie!" Sam startled and nearly dropped his phone.

"Hi everyone!" said Steve's voice. "It's our one month anniversary today, so Bucky's gonna be showing me how to make chocolate chip cookies."

" _Double_ chocolate chip cookies."

"Double the presenters, double the chocolate."

"So we're starting with some butter, which is nice and soft because we left it out on the counter while we were doing... stuff."

"Bucky!" yelped Steve, making Sam grin to himself.

"What? The audience doesn't know what I mean by 'stuff'. At least they wouldn't've until you had a fit of conniption."

"We were just playing _Carcassonne_ ," said Steve, exasperated. "You didn't have to make it sound dirty."

"We're gonna use a mixture of soft light brown sugar and granulated sugar for this, but I've made these before just using demarara sugar, and that works fine as well. Steve, tip the sugar into the bowl and start creaming them together."

Steve's hands entered the frame, sparkling with - was that nail polish?

"An honorable mention is owed to Bucky's sister, who gave me this fantastic manicure," said Steve, busily mixing together the butter and sugar.

"We match!" chirped Bucky brightly, running a hand up Steve's forearm to show off his fire engine red nails. "I'm gonna crack an egg into the mixture now - you just keep stirring."

"Is this done?" asked Steve after another moment, pausing.

"Yeah, I think it's done. I should tell you folks at home, we've had the oven pre-heating at 350 degrees for the last quarter of an hour or so."

"So what's next?"

"Next you're going to get a second bowl and mix together the dry ingredients. Start with 155 grams of plain flour, then add half a teaspoon of baking powder and a tablespoon of cocoa powder."

"Why are we using grams instead of ounces?" asked Steve, nonetheless weighing out the ingredients meticulously on the electronic scale.

"Because it's the twenty first goddamn century, Steven, and it's time America embraced the metric system."

"You heard it here first, folks."

"Now, tip the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients and start mixing them together."

Steve was humming contentedly as he beat the mixture with his wooden spoon, sounding more relaxed than he'd been in the entire time that Sam had known him.

"We're using a mixture of milk and white chocolate chips- Steve! Stop eating them!"

"What? They're all gonna end up being eaten anyway."

"They're for the cookies, you heathen. Fold them into the dough and get your grubby mitts out of the bowl."

Despite some grumbling, Steve complied and soon the cookie dough was studded with chocolate chips and looked delicious.

"This should make about eighteen cookies, and now Steve's going to separate the dough into eighteen completely identical pieces. It's creepy the way he does that."

"Love you too, babe."

_Babe_ , mouthed Sam, mystified.

"Usually, I'd say, just bake as many as you want, and leave the dough covered in the fridge until you want more so you can have them freshly baked, but to be entirely honest with you, folks, we can demolish all of these cookies between us over a single episode of _Tiger King_ , so we're making all eighteen right now."

"I might let you eat one or two."

"I will physically fight you, darlin', don't try me."

The two of them carried on bickering as they shaped the cookie dough into neat balls and placed them on a greased baking tray, the kind of good-natured ribbing that belies a real emotional connection.

"When you take 'em out of the oven," said Bucky as he slid the tray into the cooker, "they're going to look like they're totally undercooked, but don't worry! When they start to cool down they get more solid until they're the perfect amount of chewy and soft."

The time lapse video showed the balls of dough softening, spreading out, and rising into a mouthwatering batch of dark, chocolatey cookies. 

"The recipe will be down there in the description box, so why not give it a go yourself and bake some cookies with your favorite person."

"If you enjoyed this video, remember to like and subscribe! Did I say that right?"

"Yes, Stevie, that was perfect. I'll make a Youtuber of you yet."

As soon as the video finished, Sam rattled off two texts in quick succession.

**Sam:** Who is this secret boyfriend??

**Sam:** On an unrelated note, can you come over and bring me some of those cookies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookie recipe: cream 115g softened butter with 100g light brown sugar and 65g granulated sugar. Mix in one egg, then add 155g plain flour, 1/2 tsp baking powder, 1 tbsp cocoa powder, and 50g chocolate chips. Separate into 18 pieces, then bake on baking trays in a preheated oven at gas mark 4 (180C) for 15 mins.

**Author's Note:**

> [Subscribe to my profile to keep up to date with my fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diner_drama). You can also find me on the [Tumblr](https://hi-inevitable-im-dad.tumblr.com/).
> 
> What were your favourite lines? Let me know in the comments.


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